DNA
by Cait'Elizabeth'Storm
Summary: James Potter had Lily Evans. Harry Potter had Ginny Weasley. James Sirius Potter...? Well let's just say, Potters always have loved red heads. "Why won't you go out with me, Gillan?" he asks. Well, Potter, 1. he's an bullying toe rag. 2. he's not my type. 3. "You'd hurt me."
1. Prologue

**DNA**

**PROLOGUE**

"_Why won't you go out with me, Gillan?" Potter asks, snagging my wrist just before I manage to step onto the staircase in an attempt to get away from him and his questioning. He pulls me towards him, and I find that I'm turning towards him willingly. _

_If he had asked me this question several months ago, I would have screamed reasons at him left, right and centre. Most likely until my throat was raw. But for some reason, now, my tongue is stuck, and my palms are sweating, and I'm seemingly struggling to string two words together to make a simple sentence. _

_One, I force myself to think, he's an arrogant, bully toe rag, who's idea of fun is hexing random Slytherins in the corridors. Two, he's not my type. He's far too handsome (although I'd never admit it aloud), far too flirtatiously charming, and far too obnoxious for my liking. And three... _

"_You would hurt me." _


	2. 1: Longbottom and Gillan

**DNA**

**Chapter One: Longbottom and Gillan**

"Lilia Gillan, if you don't get into this compartment and hug me, I'm going to hex you into hell," Alice Longbottom threatens, her pale eyes flashing dangerously.

As soon as I set foot into the compartment she has her arms around me, and her blonde ringlets are smothering my face. I try to tell her that she's crushing my vital organs, but she doesn't pay me any attention and simply hugs me tighter. Despite the fact that I tower over her petite and delicate frame, and the fact that the green scarf her Great Grandma knitted me last Christmas in coarse against her freckled cheeks.

"I feel as though I haven't seen you in months!" she exclaims once she releases me and pushes me into the velvet cushioned seat, before taking her own.

"Alice, you saw me yesterday," I sigh, smiling softly at my ditsy best friend, whilst running a hand through the hair that often gets me mistaken for a member of the Weasley family.

"Yeah, but then you left me with Louis Weasley and his toe rag of a cousin!" she whines, and I scowl at her choice of words.

"Well, as soon as the toe rag turned up, I thought it best to leave."

The 'toe rag' we speak of is none other than, James Sirius Potter. Yes, you did read that correctly. And yes, he is the first born child of 'The Chosen One'. And yes, he is a toe rag. With his thick, unruly raven hair, his mother's hazel eyes, and his father's eyesight, James Sirius Potter is what others would call... 'God like'. Girls love him, and it disgusts me how people practically kiss the hems of his robes as he walks by them. Not to mention the fact that despite my obvious dislike for the boy, he still feels the need to ask me out four times a day, _every _day.

He's the bane of my existence, I swear to it. From scaring the few boys that actually have a crush on me away, to saying his family have a thing for red heads every time I ask him why I should date him. It's just so-

"Good morning, my Lilyflower."

My head snaps towards the compartment door at the sound of the tedious nickname only Potter dares to use. And there he is, James Sirius Potter, leaning against the door's frame with a lazy grin on his face.

"Can I help you?" I snap, casting a glare in Alice's direction as I hear her snickering.

"You haven't by any chance seen Louis, have you?" he asks in his deep baritone, catching me off guard at the casual nature of his question.

It's not often he asks normal questions in my presence.

"He's with Fred," Alice answers him, inferring towards another one of Potter's vast amount of cousins that attend Hogwarts.

"Thanks," Potter says, winking in my direction before disappearing down the corridor in search of his best friend and cousin.

"I honestly do hate him," I mutter, pulling a book out of my book way more violently than I intended to and knocking Alice's trunk to the floor with a clatter.

Great.

Rain pours around Alice and I as the two of us jump from our carriage and start walking quickly towards the castle we both call home. Thunder claps in the dark sky, scaring few of the younger students. Our robes trail in the puddles of dirty rain water, and our hair sticks to our foreheads as the rain continues to lash down towards the ground.

"Lilia! Alice!" the voice of Louis Weasley calls out, attracting our attention to the blonde haired boy and Potter running towards us with soaking hair and robes.

"Where did you go on the train?" Alice asks, I swear I see her blushing slightly at the sight of the wet, half French Weasley.

"I found him lurking around some seventh year girls," Potter smirks at his cousin, clapping a hand on his back causing a harsh 'slap' to sound.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to find him anywhere else," Alice mutters under her breath, loud enough for me to hear and to bite my lip to contain a snort of laughter.

The four of us slip onto the Gryffindor table, at opposite ends. Weasley and Potter sit beside their friends and the seventh year girls that fawn over them, and Alice and I sit towards the staff table at the quieter end. It's the end where I don't have to endure Potter any longer than necessary.

The sorting is over quickly, and new Gryffindors shuffle into the spare seats at our table nervously. I swear one was going to cry as he sat beside Alice. It's not long before Professor McGongall, Hogwarts' strict Head Mistress calls everyone's attention, and begins her annual start of term speech. A speech I would be hearing for the sixth time in my duration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She warns the first years of the dangers of the Forbidden Forest, tells the seventh years to study hard, and threatens detention if anyone dares to pull pranks this year (looking pointedly at Potter and Weasley as she does so), before the feast actually begins.

"I don't see why Louis flirts with people older than him? I mean, does he want to get a bad reputation?" Alice complains, glaring at the glob of mashed potatoes on her golden plate before aiming her glare at the blonde Weasley.

"He's friends with Potter, it comes with the territory, Al," I reply, spooning some peas onto my plate as I say this.

"I don't see why they're friends," she sighs, playing with the untouched food on her plate and twirling her fork in her slender fingers.

"They grew up together, Al, you can't expect them not to be," I say reasonably, "It's like asking him why we're friends."

"We're friends because we're both as crazy as each other, and because I'm the only one who actually saves you from James Sirius Potter," she laughs, the fire melting away from her pale blue eyes.

I'm about to correct her, and say that she always laughs at me whenever Potter is around or dares to ask me out for the millionth time. But I don't. I simply laugh along, not caring enough to start a debate about such a silly and pointless thing.

"Maybe you should ask him about his 'reputation'?" I suggest, nearly throwing my fork at an unsuspecting fifth year as I do some air quotation marks with my full hands. I hastily apologise to the pug faced girl, and blush- damn the red hair.

"Maybe you should ask James the same thing?" she mocks my curiously suggestive tone, her smile turning into a smirk.

"That would involve trying to be civil," I remind her, acting oblivious to what she is suggesting.

"Exactly," she says smugly.

"I'm not capable of that."


	3. 2: Four days, four rejections

**Chapter Two: Four days, four rejections**

Four days I had been back at Hogwarts, four bloody days, and I'm already falling back into my old routine. I'm back to waking up early and threatening to throw Alice into a cold shower if she doesn't wake up. I'm back to spending hours on end in the library, until I'm kicked out by a tired and bitter Madam Pince. And I'm back to rejecting James Sirius Potter on a daily basis.

"Do you ever think Potter will leave me alone?" I ask Alice as the two of us lie on our stomachs in the Gryffindor common room reading through our various mounds of text books and writing notes for homework. Although we both know we aren't going to get anywhere.

"Nope," Alice replies as if it's obvious, popping the 'p'.

I groan, slamming my head onto the wood floor and cursing Potter to Askaban and back for even thinking about liking me.

"Lils, he's been crazy about you since Molly invited you to spend Christmas with her and her family in third year," she elaborates, just as Molly Weasley herself plonks herself beside us with another mound of books in her thin arms.

"What are we talking about?" Molly asks, running a hand through her frizzy, strawberry blonde hair and flipping open a book about Magical Creatures. Somehow managing to do two things at once.

"Potter and his crush on our dear Lilia," Alice informs her and I begin to think back to third year in my mind.

I remember the memory clearly; I had been the gangly, five foot ten, thirteen year old who had fallen face first into the snow during and Potter/Weasley snow ball fight. It had been the day I had vowed never again to eat Brussels sprouts after seeing Molly's cousin, Hugo, eat several of them whole. And Iit had been the year I actually acknowledged Potter's existence. He had been the tall and my boyishly handsome 'saviour', who had helped me up from the snow and took my side in the fight instead of his family's, and laughed at my expression as I watched his cousin eat the sprouts whole. I can't help but smile at the memory.

"That doesn't mean he has the right to ask me out every bloody day," I hiss at them, the memory induced smile slipping from my face.

"He's my cousin, Lils, therefore he's an idiot," Molly smiles fondly at me, as if she knows something I don't, and I find myself agreeing with her silently.

"I second that," I sighed.

"Gillan, will you go out with me?" Potter questions for the first time of the day, battering his long eyelashes at me from behind his glasses.

"No," I state, returning to the potions essay I have in front of me on the library desk.

"Please?"

"N-O, means no, Potter," I say in a monotonous voice, partially hoping he'll go away and allow me to concentrate instead of lingering over me like some sort of leper.

"Why not?"

"You're not my type," I tell him, using the first excuse that comes to mind.

"What is your type?" He asks, plopping himself down into the seat opposite me, and I grumble internally.

"Not you."

"Oh, come on, Gillan, give me a chance?" He practically begs, fluttering his eyelashes once again, in some bizarre hope that it will force me to give in.

It won't.

"No," I snap harshly, dropping my quil onto the desk in a sudden burst of frustration.

"And why not?" He asks, staring at me as if I've sprouted gills and a tail.

"Because you're not my bloody type, you ask too many questions and I don't like you."

"I think you're wrong."

Excuse me?

"And why oh why is that?" I seethe through gritted teeth.

"You say that you hate me, Gillan, but we all know you don't. You get some sort of thrill out of arguing with me or throwing some lame insult at me, or simply rejecting me outright," James says, flicking through a book I didn't realise he had brought with him. "Admit it, Gillan, you enjoy it."

"Never."

* * *

**oh-kay I'm sorry this is sooo late and sooooo short, I truly am! **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter though, regardless of the length. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, i love you. And all you lurkers who have favourited and followed this story, i love you too. **

**-Caity**


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